For Keith

I wasted a look on you.
It saw broccoli wedged in between your teeth
crumbs of quiche on your shirt
opened just enough for
a few stray hairs to stick out.
A bent back
puts so much weight on your feet
they can no longer lift
but drag themselves along the floor
as if the weight of your life
is too heavy for you to notice
the look I wasted on you.
A look or scorn
disgust
and contempt that the food in your teeth
should be so bold
as to interrupt and offend
my otherwise pleasant lunch,
Your smile was unaware
of the look
I wasted on you
right before a cucumber in my lap
made me painfully aware
of my inability
to eat a salad.
4/25/04